Unspoken
by sailorhathor
Summary: Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul a secret that could end their relationship. Dean/Paul.
1. Chapter 1

**Unspoken**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 1 of 4  
**Rating:** Adult17+ for graphic sex between two men and bad language  
**Dates:** Written June-July 2008  
**Word Count:** 5,299 (this chapter), 19,273 total  
**Summary:** Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul that he is a God is Nowhere person. Buckets of hurt/comfort.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Paul Callan. Also, discussion of Teen!Dean/Billy Loomis from _Scream_.  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for _Miracles_.  
**Warning:** Contains spoilers for all of _Miracles_ and _Supernatural_ up to "The Benders." Spoilers for the movie _Scream_.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Harshini the Impatient Vegemite for poking me until I wrote this story. She also served as its beta.  
**Author's Notes:** Follows after "Orange-Flavored Kiss."  
It's been a long time since I've written for my OTP. I've been too busy conning others into writing them for me. But I always intended to take up this story again. Harshini poking me got me to write it that much sooner.  
Kaija West came up with the idea for Dean to be a God is Nowhere person. Idea used with her permission.

"You are _not_ the father!"

Laughing, Paul retorted, "Oh come on, it's her tenth time on the show. This one's got to be the dad."

On Paul's TV screen, Maury Povich opened a manila envelope and took out a piece of paper. "Dominic... you are _not_ the father."

"Ha!" Georgia cried. "You see?"

The audience on _The Maury Povich Show_ momentarily made a great deal of noise in reaction to the result of the paternity test. The female guest had sworn up and down that she was "1000 sure" that Dominic, or maybe the other man she'd brought on the show, Chris, was the father of her baby. To be proven wrong on national TV was humiliating for her and a source of juicy gossip for everyone else in the studio that day. Paul and his best friend Georgia joined in from Paul's home, relaxing on the couch with a bowl of Chex Mix.

"Yeah, well, keep watching. Chris has _got_ to be the father. I can feel it."

Georgia stuffed her mouth full of Chex Mix, rolling her eyes at the same time. "So naïve, Paul," she said; he could barely understand her, as she was chewing. "You don't know a slut when you see one."

"What? Did you just call her a mutt?" Paul asked.

Georgia chuckled, still chewing. "Paul, she's been on the show _ten times_ already."

"Shhh, Maury," he said, pointing at the screen.

Maury opened the second envelope. Chris looked very nervous after finding out that Dominic was not the father; where did that leave him? Drawing out the tension, Maury finally read the paper after a long pause. "Chris... you are _not_ the father!"

The crowd exploded into jubilant chaos. Paul's mouth popped open in a shocked, "Whoooa!" and Georgia began to laugh.

"See, what'd I tell you? Straight up slut."

The shamed mother stomped off the stage and promptly fell to the floor, crying and carrying on hysterically. Paul frowned. "I feel kinda sorry for her kid."

"We all feel sorry for the kid, Paul. He's got a tramp for a mom who doesn't know who her baby daddy is," chuckled Georgia.

"Hm." Paul paused and then added, "That's not why I feel sorry for 'im."

Growing a little somber, she nodded. "No father."

"No father," he agreed.

"That _is_ too bad for the kid. His mom only has herself to blame, though."

"I know." Sighing, a bit weary of the world, Paul grabbed a handful of Chex Mix and put half of it in his mouth.

"Hey, you didn't invite me here so we could get all depressed over _Maury_. Didn't you want to talk about something?" Georgia asked, thumping him on the shoulder.

His eyes shifting nervously, Paul cleared his throat and started to eat the Chex Mix one piece at a time just to have something to do with his hands. "Uh, yeah. You remember me telling you about... past indiscretions... in college, and a couple of times with Jason?"

Georgia sat up a little straighter. When Paul said he wanted to talk about something, she hadn't expected it would be this. "Yeah..."

"It happened again the other night," he said with a nervous little laugh.

"No! Was it Jason?" Georgia asked, astonished.

Paul shook his head. "You don't know him."

"How'd it happen?"

"Uh... where do I start... you know how the first time, it was just... I was young, and curious, and the guy pursued me... you know how college is."

Georgia burst out with a laugh. "Yeah," she said in a tone that spoke of a few of her own college indiscretions.

"Then, the two times with Jason were because of upsetting things that happened to me..." Paul continued.

"Your break-up with Rebecca and the kid in Arizona dying?"

"Tommy Ferguson," he added, and confirmed, "Yeah. Well, something else happened. I... I recovered my memories of what happened in Vermont in 1998."

Gasping, Georgia said, "That time you were drugged and drove to Mountaineer?"

"Yes. Turns out... I don't even know how to say this, it sounds so insane. I mean, I know that you have a little experience with weird things after those letters you were receiving from your father, but... it's really out there, Georgia. I don't even want to think how it sounded to the psychologist who hypnotized me." Having finished his snack, Paul started wiping his fingers on a napkin. It didn't seem like he could get them clean enough, with how much he wiped them.

"Paul, it's okay. Whatever happened, I'll listen to whatever you want to tell me."

It took him several seconds to find the words he wanted to use. "I was attacked and drugged."

"Oh, Paul..." Georgia reached out and hugged him to her. He closed his eyes, hugging her back, holding on a little long. "I'm so sorry."

He moved away, but kept a hand on her arm. "It gave me the drug by force. I had no choice but to do its bidding."

"It?"

Paul looked at her. "That's the insane part," he said. "I'd rather not get into that part of it right now. The point is that the recovery of those memories was, well, traumatic."

"Of course it was," Georgia said soothingly. She eyed the bandages on his hands.

"I met Dean, and he was dealing with problems of his own. And I... I told you how I feel when I get like that."

She nodded, knowing how hard it was for him to verbalize his desires for men, no matter how infrequent. "You brought him home?"

"Yeah."

"His name was Dean?"

"Yeah. Dean Winchester."

"The two of you... how far did you go?"

Not able to help it, Paul snorted. "I can't just _say_ it..."

"What base did he get to?" Georgia asked.

He laughed. "What base... oh boy. You know, I've never been really clear on what the various bases are supposed to mean..."

"Did you have sex with him?"

Chewing on his lower lip, Paul looked down at the floor and chuckled to himself nervously.

"Paul?"

"Yes," he replied, voice too loud and too sharp. Somehow, he drew up enough courage to add, "Twice."

Georgia managed not to gasp. "You _were_ upset."

He cringed. "That's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"At first, I wanted Dean's comfort, and he gave it willingly. But then, I didn't want it to stop. We spent... _hours_ together, Georgia. It just went on and on... and I didn't want it to stop." Paul tentatively looked over at her, to see the reaction on her face. "I've never wanted a man like that before."

Her expression was one of almost shock. "You started to desire him not for comfort... but for him?"

Desperate for her to understand, Paul nodded, his own face distraught with worry. "And when I have the chance, I want to be with him again. I can't stop thinking about it." He almost sounded like he was on the verge of panic. "I'm not gay, Georgia. I'm still attracted to women. What's happening to me?"

She rubbed his arm, hoping to be soothing, to calm him down. "I don't know exactly, Paul. Sometimes, you meet someone and there's something special about them, and they do things for you that no one else has ever been able to do. Maybe for you, Dean is that person." Growing up Catholic also, Georgia understood why this was confusing for him. "Did you manage to get a picture of the guy?"

Paul briefly considered showing her a picture from his cell phone, but decided quickly that it would be embarrassing if she saw the look on Dean's face and his half-dressed state (and those were the pictures he _could_ show her; he didn't even want to think of how Georgia would react if she saw the _other_ pictures). Instead, Paul went to his kitchen table where the hard copy of the Winchester file sat and dug out Dean's photo.

When Georgia saw it, her eyes widened. "Whoa, Paul! This guy's _gorgeous!_"

He couldn't help but smile and chortle.

She went on. "A guy like this could charm the skin off a sausage."

To that, Paul laughed out loud. "Georgia! That's quite the comparison you just made."

She realized her double entendré and laughed herself, shaking her head. "Okay, maybe I meant that literally."

Paul snatched the picture out of her hand. "I better take this back before you drool all over it and ruin it."

"Me?" She watched him as he gazed longingly at the photo before putting it back in the file. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

"Yeah. You could say that."

Georgia knew by the way he said it that it was the understatement of the year. Her eyes widened in amazement again. "Paul... are you falling in love with him?"

Not looking at her, Paul studied the floor, his own eyes going wide for a second and his breath catching in his chest. He almost instantly started, "N - " but couldn't finish the word; Paul had hardly ever lied to Georgia. Deep down inside, he knew that he couldn't deny it and be entirely truthful. There was something happening between Dean Winchester and himself. But, was it love? After all Paul had been taught in Catholic school, did he even believe it was possible for him to fall in love with a man? "I... don't know, Georgia," he finally said, looking at her. "It would be easier if I could say no, but I can't. After knowing him for only a few days, I already care about his well-being so much that it terrifies me to think I may never see him again. You don't worry about somebody like that if there's nothing between you. A friendship, a fondness, something. But it's much more than that. You ask me if I'm falling in love with Dean and my answer is... I just don't know."

The look of confusion on Paul's face was so intense that it was almost stricken. Georgia's heart went out to her friend. She wished she had all the answers he seeked. They'd been brought up the same way, but Georgia wasn't as confused about whether or not two men could genuinely fall in love with each other - she believed they could, even if it was contrary to the fundamental beliefs of her church. But if Georgia ever found herself in the same situation, and had deep feelings for another woman, would she be so sure? She uttered, "Oh, Paul," and gave him another hug. He embraced her back, grateful to have her to talk to and understand what he was going through, what a struggle this was for him. "You'll figure it out. I'll always be here when you need someone to talk to, okay? It will be alright."

"You have no idea how bad I needed to hear that, George. You just have no idea... this is the first time I've felt this way toward someone since... well, since..." Paul struggled with his words, obviously fighting back tears.

Georgia's mouth fell open. "Since _Rebecca?_"

Nodding, Paul let out a deep breath.

A wave of emotion swept over Georgia, and she fought back tears of her own. She knew what this meant for him. If Dean didn't feel the same way, Paul could be really hurt. Georgia patted the back of his hand and squeezed it gently. "That's okay. There's nothing wrong with caring about someone."

Paul only nodded back, solemnly.

Understanding the full gravity of why he couldn't talk to Father Calero yet, Georgia didn't suggest that he talk to his parish priest as she usually would. Instead, she took one of his hands and unfolded it, looking at the bandages. "You have cheddar fingers."

Paul began to laugh. "You're the one who brought the Cheddar Chex Mix."

While they were heading into the bathroom to change Paul's bandages, Dean's eyes were on the road, but his heart and mind were there with Paul, drinking in his feelings through the empathic link. In the last hour, Paul had felt amusement, surprise, then confusion and fear. He was conflicted and afraid, but also sent out such warmth and caring, and was grateful for someone's help. Dean wondered what the hell Paul could have been doing that would cause such a range of emotions.

"That sign back there said the next exit was Boston," Sam informed him. He knew from the far-off look on Dean's face that he was too lost in thought to notice everything. "You better call Paul and let him know we're almost there."

"Oh, yeah..." Dean got out his cell phone and dialed up Paul's number.

Georgia was helping him rewrap his left hand when Paul's cell phone rang. He stopped wrapping long enough to get the phone out of his pocket and look at it to see who was calling. His eyes showed surprise, then he smiled sheepishly. "It's Dean."

Grinning mischievously, she crooned, "Ohhhh... your boyfriend."

Paul gave her shoulder a playful whack with his free hand, but instantly regretted it. "Oooh, ow," he growled with a cringe. Georgia couldn't help but laugh. Putting a finger to his lips to shush her, he answered the phone. "Good morning, Dean."

"Hey, you. Uh, I mean Paul." Dean glanced at his brother to see if he noticed the overexcited tone he had started to use for the phone call. Sam had, but he acted like he hadn't. "We're on the edge of town, heading your way. You're decent, aren't you? Not, like, naked or something?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Paul teased. Georgia raised any eyebrow.

"I will in a bit," replied Dean. He kept one eye on the road and the other on Sam. "I'm telling him we'll be there in a bit."

"You liar," Paul laughed. "Yes, it's okay for you guys to head over."

"Okay, we'll see you in about ten minutes. Bye." Trying to be good for Sam's ignorant sake, Dean hung up and smiled at him innocently.

If only he knew how far from ignorant Sam was, he'd understand how fake that smile looked to him.

Georgia tried to appear innocent herself. "You want I should make myself scarce?"

Paul, shaking his head, replied, "I want you to stay and meet him."

Georgia put a hand to her heart. "Paul, meeting the family already?"

He went to smack her again, but stopped short and picked up a magazine, with which he gave her a good whack.

By the time Dean rapped on the door, Paul's hands were reswaddled in clean bandages and he and Georgia were waiting in the living room. Paul wanted badly to give Dean a deep kiss as soon as he saw him, standing in the doorway, but knew that he couldn't. Not in front of the mop-haired little brother standing next to the object of his admiration.

As if to make things even harder, Dean flashed a gorgeous smile. "Hey Paul. Can we come in?"

"You have to ask?" Grinning like a fool, Paul opened the door wide for them. "Morning, Sam."

"Morning." He saw the dark-haired woman sitting on Paul's couch. "You got company."

"Yeah. Uh, Dean, Sam, this is my best friend, Georgia Wilson. Georgia, this is Dean and his brother Sam Winchester."

She stood up, trying to keep her knowing smile to a minimum. "Pleased to meet you."

They each shook her hand. Dean eyed her, and then eyed Paul, trying to figure out if she'd just paid her friend a brief visit or if she had been the source of all those varied feelings coming off Paul. Had they been talking about him? "Good to meet you too."

"I just came in to say hello. Dean needs to talk to you about something, so I'm going to head on over to SQ and meet you guys there later," explained Sam. Dean handed him the keys.

"Well," Georgia began, clapping her hands together, "I must be on my way. Talk with you later, Paul?" The look she gave him said, _Later, when you'll dish all the dirt?_

He squinted an eye at her for being so obvious and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Have a good weekend, George."

"Hey, why don't I give Sam a ride to SQ?" she suggested. "I know where it is, and that way, he could leave the car for you," Georgia said to Dean.

"Works for me," he replied.

"Alright, well, see you later?" Sam looked at his brother with an expression that said, _Good luck._

Dean nodded, swallowing down his apprehension.

With a wave and a duck out the door, Sam and Georgia were gone, and Paul was locking the door behind them. When he turned around, Dean poked him hard in the chest. "Put that crystal ward back where I left it. I don't want the Keel bitches coming in here and interrupting us again."

"Okay, okay, sheesh." Paul got the crystal out of a desk drawer and handed it to him.

Dean put the crystal back under one of the windows in Paul's apartment. "There."

"You can just put it back like that and it works?"

"That's how I set up the spell. Now..." Dean nearly pounced on Paul, taking his face in his hands and kissing him with all the pent up passion he hadn't been able to act on the night before. Paul let out a frustrated, excited noise; he felt like he'd been waiting for this for much longer than he actually had. They backed into a wall and, as Dean was kissing Paul, he lifted his arms above his head, caressing them as he went, rubbing his fingers over Paul's bandages gently, then moving his hands down to the bottom of Paul's sweater vest. Dean lifted the sweater over his head and broke the kiss long enough to pull it off. Paul breathed out heavily, watching him toss the sweater onto the couch.

Paul leaned in to kiss him again, but Dean put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Wait."

"What, what?" Paul said impatiently.

"I've got something really serious to talk to you about."

Sighing, he asked, "It can't wait?"

"It _really_ can't wait," answered Dean.

Paul looked at his sweater lying on the couch. "If you wanted to talk to me first, then why were you undressing me?"

Glancing at the sweater vest, Dean squared his shoulders and grinned mischievously. "I just don't like it on ya." And without another word, he strolled into Paul's bedroom.

Downstairs in the parking lot, Georgia made a half circle around the long black Impala. "Hey, get the boat car. I've never seen this monstrosity around Paul's building before."

Sam snickered. "It's my brother's."

"Oh, I should have known a guy like that would have a car like this." Chuckling herself, she pointed across the parking lot. "There's mine. Let's be off, shall we?"

He frowned at the compact car. "I hope I can fit in that cracker box."

"It's not my fault you're the Jolly Green Giant."

Once he was seated on the passenger side, Sam let out a laugh at how his knees were practically pressed into his chest. "Fee, fi, fo, fum..."

"Sorry." Georgia reached over and grabbed a handle on the left front of his chair. "Push back."

He did, and the seat moved back a few inches. "Thanks, that's a little better." Sam looked up at the roof of the car, trying not to hit his head on it; the car lacked headroom for him, too.

Once they were underway, Georgia opened a compartment between them and brought out a bottle. "Protein water?"

"Sure. I'm a bit thirsty."

"I thought you'd like it. You look like you work out."

"Yeah, I do." Sam twisted the cap off and started to drink.

"Me too. I don't weight train, but I run every morning, rain or shine."

They chatted about running and working out for a few minutes, making polite conversation. "...I've tried to take Paul out a couple of times, but he hated it. Bitched and moaned about his calves aching. Such a delicate flower."

Sam snickered again.

"So I _know_ you and your brother didn't meet Paul at the gym." Georgia was fishing for information, she knew it. She just wondered if Sam did.

"No, we met on the job. Uh, we do the same thing that SQ does," he replied, and added, "Basically."

"Oh? I had no idea there were more people around who... do whatever you'd call it," she said with a laugh. "I don't even know what a person would put in the Job Description box on their tax forms when that's what they do for a living."

Sam played along. A person didn't file taxes for demon hunting. "I just write 'Ghost Buster.'"

Laughing again, Georgia commented, "The IRS must love that." There was a pause, and then she continued solemnly, "SQ worked a case for me a few years ago. I was getting letters from my father. He died when I was seven."

Sam, turning his head sharply in surprise, looked at her. "Really?"

"Yes. They were being written through the man who murdered him." She glanced over at him to see the look on his face, gauge whether or not he believed her. "He'd go into a trance and write all these letters from his victims. He was a hit man."

Sam nodded. "Automatic writing."

So he _did_ believe her. "That's what Mr. Keel called it. Whatever it was, it made a believer out of me. At least in the afterlife. My parents are waiting for me in Heaven." Georgia smiled wistfully.

Thinking about what she'd said, Sam asked, "That's where you know Paul from? The orphanage?"

She tried to shake off any melancholy feelings brought on by the turn of conversation. "Yes."

"Well, it's nice that you have such a welcoming view of the afterlife." With all that Sam knew, he couldn't be so sure that death was so beautiful for everyone. "It must be comforting."

"It is," she replied, and smiled to herself, thinking of her father. "So, what are Paul and Dean talking about? Ghost-related stuff?"

That stopped Sam for a moment, with all the angry things he wanted to say about what he _knew_ Dean wanted to be doing with Paul that he thought his little brother didn't know about. "Yeah, job stuff."

"Oh. I guess they were planning on having a good long talk, since you left." Fishing again.

At that, Sam looked angry now instead of just feeling it. "Yeah. That's all they're planning on doing. Having a _talk_."

Georgia slowly looked over at Sam, trying to figure out what he knew and to what he was reacting. "Is there something else?"

He almost frowned, and then gazed out the window. "No."

"Oh. Paul mentioned there were some new doings going on regarding something that happened to him in Vermont about eight years ago. Are they talking about that?"

"That's part of it." Sam looked back over at her. "You and Paul had a nice long talk this morning about what's going on?"

"Yeah. Big heart to heart. Paul likes to spill his guts," Georgia laughed.

"Hmph." Sam stared out the window again. "Must be nice when someone trusts you enough to tell you what's going on in their life, even their deepest, darkest secrets." He took a long swig from the bottle of water.

"Yeah, sure is." Georgia thought she'd figured out what the problem was. She smirked at the thought of what she was about to say, but the kid needed to talk. "So... how long have you known that Paul and your brother are getting it on?"

Sputtering and choking on his water, a shocked Sam tried to say, "What?!" but that only made the water go up the back of his throat and out his nose. He put a hand to his nose and coughed and sputtered some more.

Georgia, not able to help it, chuckled, and dug a napkin out of the center console. "Are you new at this?"

Still coughing a bit, Sam put the napkin to his nose. "What?" he began, between hacks. "Drinking, or knowing that my brother is bisexual?"

Dean dropped his duffle bag on the floor and sat on Paul's bed, taking in his posture as he followed him into the room. "Don't be mad, Paul," he said as more of a request than a command.

Paul, rolling his eyes with amusement, relented and sat on the bed next to Dean. "Whatever. You're such a tease."

"I know." Dean suddenly grew serious, looking down at his hands intertwined in his lap. "Paul, I have something very serious to talk to you about, and I really don't know what your reaction is going to be because I don't know enough to even guess. I knew that this could be such a blow that you... you might not feel like having sex with me, and I couldn't take advantage of that by screwing you first, so I'm telling you now."

The more Paul heard, the more his face twisted in confusion.

"I didn't tell you on the phone last night because I thought it was better if you heard this in person." Dean reached into his jacket, pulling out his father's journal. He just held it for a few seconds, feeling its weight in his hands, before he spoke again. "After we left the other day, Sam had a vision. He saw himself ripping out the back pocket of our father's journal, right here." Dean opened the journal and showed Paul where the back had been pulled up. "Behind it, he found this letter. Our father wrote it in 1984." Taking out the letter, he unfolded it, looking at it for a long time in silence.

Paul reached in with the empathic link, and was shocked to find the feeling that was foremost in Dean's emotional core right now... was fear. He tried to stroke those feelings down with his psychic link, soothe them, quiet them, put them out, but he wasn't really successful. "Dean, what does it say?"

"Uh..." Dean readjusted the letter in his hands. At that moment, Paul caught sight of one of the folded sides and saw the words 'God is Nowhere' written there. His breath stopped in his throat so loudly that it came out as a choked gasp; Dean knew what had caused that reaction and he cringed. He didn't dare look at Paul. "I told you it was bad," Dean remarked.

Giving his dry lips a pass with his tongue, Paul said, "Read it."

It wasn't addressed to anyone, the letter just began...

_I must hide this paper after I have written what happened that day in 1984. My research on the 'God is Nowhere' phenomena is sketchy, but more than one reputable psychic has told me that anyone whose blood spells out these words is in danger - a danger to themselves, and in danger from agents of evil. That is why I must chronicle what happened and then hide this paper, to protect the life of my son._ Dean dared to look at Paul then. His mouth hung open in shock; he clearly couldn't believe what he was hearing. Paul tried to speak for several seconds, but couldn't form the words at first. "You... your... your father wrote that?"

Just nodding in reply, Dean continued.

_That day, we had all gone to the park to meet with a woman named Lydia Goodwell._ Paul made a strangled noise and put his head in his hands. "Oh, God. Goodwell. _Goodwell_."

Testing the waters, Dean put a hand on Paul's back and started to rub it slowly. "Do you want me to go on?"

Paul, without looking up, nodded for him to keep reading.

_She had received a very disturbing prophecy about her own child and hoped I could help her sort it out._ To that, Paul snorted. "Holy Christ," he mumbled to himself. "Give me strength."

Dean knew he had to read it all; it would be easier in the long run to just get it all out.

_My son does not remember this incident because he was too young. He couldn't even read yet. When this thing happened, I had my baby Sammy lying on a park bench so I could change his diaper. My older son Dean climbed up on the jungle gym. I was distracted, so I didn't notice the boy walking the top of the jungle gym until it was too late. He called to me that he was practicing his balance, and then I heard him yelp as he lost it. A meaty thud followed._

He started to scream and cry. By the time I reached him, his busted lip had bled quite a bit, along with the spot where he'd knocked out two baby teeth. The blood pooled on the pavement where he'd fallen. I picked him up to comfort him and try to stop the bleeding. The woman I'd met that day at the park ran over with my other son in her arms, and she scared us all when she pointed and shrieked at the pool of blood. The blood had formed words. It formed the words God is Nowhere. Again, Dean looked at Paul to see how he was reacting. "Paul, look at me."

He did. Paul's face was so stricken that Dean feared he might actually be ill. His eyes glistened, as if on the verge of crying.

"Does this change anything between us?"

On to Part 2

3 4

**Unspoken** is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Unspoken**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 2 of 4  
**Rating:** Adult17+ for graphic sex between two men and bad language  
**Dates:** Written June-July 2008  
**Word Count:** 4,559 (this chapter), 19,273 total  
**Summary:** Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul that he is a God is Nowhere person. Buckets of hurt/comfort.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Paul Callan. Also, discussion of Teen!Dean/Billy Loomis from _Scream_.  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for _Miracles_.  
**Warning:** Contains spoilers for all of _Miracles_ and _Supernatural_ up to "The Benders." Spoilers for the movie _Scream_.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Harshini the Impatient Vegemite for poking me until I wrote this story. She also served as its beta.  
**Author's Notes:** The part about the God is Nowhere phenom refers to a past _Miracles_ fanfic of mine, but you don't necessarily have to read that story to enjoy this one.

This chapter has been edited for inclusion on FF .net. If you'd like to read the hawt unedited version, remove the extra spaces from this URL and visit: dementedstuff .com/ miracles/ crossunspoken02 .htm

"Does this change anything between us?" Dean asked. It shocked him, how weak and scared his own voice sounded.

A beat and Paul wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, kissing him on the mouth. Longing for his comfort, needing to quiet his fears. Dean put his free hand on the back of Paul's neck and kissed him back with relief and passion. They shared a few more small kisses, then just sat for half a minute with their foreheads resting against each other, breathing and brushing their lips together.

There were certain words Paul wanted to say, and if he'd said them, he would have meant them, but his own fear kept him from telling Dean how he was now sure he felt. Instead, he said something he knew Dean needed to hear at that moment. "It doesn't change this between us. Not at all."

A tiny whimper escaped Dean before he dropped the letter on the floor and put both arms around Paul, kissing him with all his passion. His father's journal slid off his lap and to the floor, and they kissed without thinking about anything but each other until they were so hot and bothered that they could think of nothing but rubbing their bodies together and seeking release.

Dean began to remove his jacket. Paul noticed and said between kisses, "Haven't finished the letter."

"It'll keep," Dean responded, throwing off his jacket and then going for Paul's shirt...

Paul moaned Dean's name helplessly. It wasn't long before the room filled with the sounds of squeaking bedsprings and heavy breathing and pleading.

Paul, unable to hold it in, began, "Dean, I... I..." He couldn't say it. There were too many years of repressed feelings and shameful confessions between them. "...I really... _really_ care for you."

Dean stroked the hair at his temple softly. "I care for you too." They shared another deep, desperate kiss...

Now that they had relieved their immediate tensions, they could get back to their talk. Dean wasted no time. "So what does it mean, the God is Nowhere thing? What does it mean for me?"

Paul sat up, getting a towel from on top of the nearby clothes hamper so they could clean up. "Let's finish your father's letter."

spn/miracles/spn/miracles/spn/miracles

"Why don't you just tell your brother that you know about his relationship with Paul?" Georgia was saying as she pulled into the parking lot of the building Sodalitas Quaerito occupied.

"Because he's been keeping this attraction to men secret from me for at least ten years. Ten years! We've kept secrets from each other before, but something like this... it's a big deal." Sam huffed, agitated. "I don't want to have to ask him. He's going to _tell_ me. He's my _brother_. You don't keep a secret like that from family."

Georgia switched the car off, then turned in her seat so that she was partially facing him. "Sam, those are _precisely_ the people you keep a secret like that from, when you're afraid of how they'll react."

He didn't say anything, just thinking about what she'd said.

She continued. "Dean is the macho type. Tall guy, big, got the spiky hair, the muscle car, the manly persona... this is how people see him. It's his image. Then, he discovers that he's got an attraction to men. This doesn't really go along with the rest of the image, does it?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"I bet Dean was pretty embarrassed when he realized he was going to have to tell people how he felt. Maybe even scared."

Again, Sam shook his head, more forcefully this time. "He knows he doesn't have anything to be afraid of. I'm not some homophobic jerk."

Georgia, shrugging, said, "Maybe not, but Sam? It's different when you have to tell someone very close to you a big secret about yourself, especially when it could totally blow their image of you. Don't you understand? It's different when it's personal."

He didn't know what to say in response; she had a point. Sam had kept his own secrets from Dean until he was ready to tell him, and it had been exactly for the reason she'd said - because he was afraid of his brother's reaction. "But ten years, Georgia? To keep it from me for ten years?"

She gave a light shrug. "If he'd told you he had romantic feelings toward men back then, would you even have been able to believe him? Maybe it was something you _had_ to see with your own eyes. Maybe when it started, you were too young to understand. And as you both got older, and the time passed, he'd been keeping the secret for so long that it just got easier to keep and harder to tell." Georgia paused, then finished, "Maybe Dean was afraid that if you knew he wasn't all that you thought he was, you would leave."

Those words hit Sam hard in the gut. _...you would leave._ College. Stanford. Sam _had_ left, and planned to go back once he found that yellow-eyed animal and had taken his revenge. Was it possible that in the back of Dean's mind, he thought Sam had left because he _knew?_ And was he afraid Sam would leave him again for the same reason? If he did leave... _when_ he would leave and return to Stanford... Sam had to be sure that his brother knew precisely why. It bothered him to think that Dean could be punishing himself for a decision that had nothing to do with him. "You're a smart woman, Georgia."

Georgia grinned, laughing through her teeth. "You'll talk to him then?"

"In time." Sam got out of the car and leaned down to the open window. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Hey, when you do talk to Dean, be gentle, okay? Paul's pretty freaked out about this too. This isn't a common relationship for him, but he's involved now. I don't want him to get hurt."

Giving her a nod, Sam replied, "I promise I'll think of Paul's feelings too." He started to go, but turned back and leaned down to the window again. "I'm glad Paul has such a good friend who cares about him so much. It makes all of this much easier."

They shared a smile, and then Sam climbed the stairs to the back entrance of SQ.

He found the door open, a light breeze blowing into the office. Alva and Evie were inside, leaning over a box of files; they looked up in surprise when Sam entered. "Samuel!" Alva said, straightening up. "You're back from Vermont."

"Hi." Sam raised the bottle of protein water as a form of greeting.

"Where's your brother?" Evie asked.

"He's over at Paul's, having a talk with him. They'll be in later."

"Oh?" Alva seemed curious and suspicious at the same time. "What are they talking about?"

"Well... guess there isn't any reason not to just get right into it. We have something pretty serious to tell you. Dean thought it was only right to tell Paul himself. I'm supposed to relay the story to you two."

Alva and Evie looked at each other. "Is it about the Mothman?" Evie questioned.

"Not entirely." Sam let out a nervous sigh. "You may want to sit down."

The two glanced at each other again, and then Alva took a seat. Evie remained standing, picking up her large coffee mug and holding it in both hands, taking a sip. They both looked troubled.

With a deep breath, Sam began, "After we left the other day, I had one of my visions. I saw myself finding a note hidden in the back of our father's journal. So, I went looking for it, and I found it. Dad wrote this letter in 1984. It was about how he met with a woman at a park back then; she had sought him out for help with a prophecy a psychic had made about her son.

"Her name was Lydia Goodwell."

Alva gasped; Evie's eyes went wide, and they looked at each other again.

"You would have to fill in a lot of the details on that one. All I know is that her son, Chad, went on a killing spree years later. I guess my dad wasn't able to help her."

Swallowing hard, Alva nodded slightly. "We can fill in those details."

"Good. Anyway, the letter continues... saying that my brother was playing on the jungle gym and fell off. Dean was only five at the time. Dad and the woman run over with me just in time to see..." Now Sam swallowed down a lump of apprehension and worry. "...to see that Dean had busted his mouth open. And his blood had pooled on the ground... spelling out the words 'God is Nowhere.'"

This time, Evie gasped; her hands gave a sudden tremor and released the coffee mug. It shattered on the hard floor. A puddle of coffee spread at her feet. Sam jumped in surprise at the noise.

Alva put a hand over his mouth. "Oh... of course. Of course. I should have known," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "The Mothman has given me clues about the God is Nowhere people since the beginning. This is why he brought us all together. Your brother... is person number eight."

Concerned, Sam grabbed a roll of paper towels off a nearby desk and ripped off a bunch, then handed the roll to Evie. "Are you okay?"

She blinked several times, swayed, and steadied herself against her desk. "I'm alright, just... never expected to hear that." Evie took the paper towels. They both bent down and started to wipe up the coffee. Sam slid the trashcan next to him over so he could pick up the pieces of the mug and dispose of them.

Alva immediately began to dig through the box of files. "Hemography, Hemography, it's in here somewhere..."

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" Sam asked Evie.

She seemed to shake it off. "I'm fine." Frowning, Evie looked at a piece of the colorful mug. "Matty gave this to me," she lamented, and regretfully tossed it into the trashcan.

"Hm?" Alva looked down at where they were crouched, finally noticing. "Oh, your Mother's Day mug... I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Evie rolled her eyes and sighed; wasn't like there was anything she could do about it now. "I've got a couple more a lot like it."

While they cleaned up the mess, Sam finished the story. "Our dad's letter ends with details about some dreams Dean had about Paul. Dreams he had many years ago."

"Well, most of them dreamed of Paul. Come here, Samuel, and look at this." Alva held up the Hemography file.

Sam looked at Alva, then at Evie, and tried a tentative smile of relief. "You're not frantically running over to Paul's to protect him from Dean. I guess that means the God is Nowhere people aren't some kind of threat. We really didn't know how you would react... we don't know a lot about this thing."

Looking up at him, Alva showed him a sheet of paper from the file. "It will all make a great deal more sense once you read this."

Evie, standing, put a hand on his arm. "We've received information that indicates that 'God is Nowhere' is a positive message. We don't think these people are dangerous."

Relieved, Sam sat down hard into a chair. "Phew! You have no idea what a relief that is."

"I think we can imagine," Evie commented.

Alva plopped the open Hemography file down in front of Sam. "Of course, I'll want to interview your brother and father."

Sam blinked, speechless at first. Interview Dean... and _Dad?_ Finally, he said, "Oh, _that's_ going to be fun..."

Dean had pulled up his jeans but didn't button them, and as he watched Paul doing up his pants now, he wondered why. "You're just giving yourself one extra thing to do later."

Paul looked up. "Huh?"

Smirking mischievously, Dean pointed to Paul's fly. "Or should I say, you're just giving yourself one extra thing to _undo_ later."

Paul took a second to get it. A sly little smile crossed his face. "You think you're getting more after we're done talking?"

"I don't think, I know." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him. "Actually, I should amend that. You're giving _me_ one extra thing to undo later."

Paul, chuckling briefly, responded, "Read the rest of the letter."

"Right." Dean picked up the journal and the letter. "Back in serious mode. I'm sorry, but this'll blow your mind." He cleared his throat and began to read again.

_After this happened, Dean began having dreams about a boy named Paul._ Paul's eyes widened in shock for a moment. "You had dreams too? Why does that surprise me; almost all the God is Nowhere people had dreams about me."

Now Dean looked surprised. "They did?"

He nodded, and pointed at the letter, indicating for Dean to continue.

_My son told me he dreamed of Paul being three years old, sitting on his father's lap, only he doesn't know it's his father. Dean had other dreams that were too vague for him to describe in detail. Something about this boy, Paul, becoming an adult, and meeting his father again, only he still has no idea this man is his father. These dreams in particular agitated Dean because he was convinced that Paul's dad was a very dangerous man, and seemed to want to protect Paul from him._ As he read, Paul's eyes widened again, filled with confusion, and finally took on that stricken look once more. "Oh... _God_, Dean... what if I've already met him? And I didn't even know who he was..." He put his head in his hands.

Dean moved over next to him, putting his arms around him and stroking his hair. "I know it's shocking, and I can imagine it must be hard. But maybe you haven't met him yet. Maybe you don't want to."

"Dean..." Paul lifted his head. He was close to tears. "...even if he was the most dangerous man in the world, I'd still want to meet him. He's my father. Even if it's just to ask him why... why he didn't want to be a part of my life... why he left me in an orphanage... I'd want to meet him." His bottom lip quivered.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Dean caught that trembling lip up in a small, gentle kiss. "There's nothing in the letter that says it's already happened."

Paul shook his head. "I'm not being totally honest. I had the chance once to meet someone who could have been my father, and I made every excuse in the book not to go. There was a confidential file at the County Records Office that held information on who my father was... the file clerk sent out a request for someone to give me permission to look at it... the man who answered could have been my father. And I just kept saying no, Keel needs me here, whatever I could think of not to go see him when he came into town to look at the file. The truth is, I was scared. He left me once. Maybe... maybe he just didn't like me."

"Oh, Paul, stop it," Dean scolded.

"Trouble happened and I wound up missing him anyway. And you know what he did? He sealed the file so I couldn't look at it. He wanted to make sure that I never find out who he is. How am I supposed to take that, Dean? He doesn't want me. He never wanted me." Paul hid his face in his hands, as if he felt ashamed for being the little boy whose father didn't want him.

Dean gave his shoulders a light shake. "If that's how he feels, then he's a piece of shit, Paul. You hear me? It's not your fault. You were an adorable, innocent little kid, and you're an honorable man now. Any man should be proud to have a son like you. If he doesn't want to know you, then he's not worth it. He's not even a man. He's a coward. Alright? Paul? Look at me."

Paul lifted his head slightly, keeping his hands close to his face. He looked at Dean through teary eyes.

"Don't let the fact that your father's a dick make you feel bad about yourself. Knowing you is more than worth it. Okay?" Dean stroked his thumb over the hair above Paul's ear.

Paul seemed to think it over, and finally nodded.

As an afterthought, Dean added, "Besides, they were just dreams. Who says they're going to come true?"

Paul sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "Everything the others dreamed has come true."

A cold chill swept up Dean's back. He thought of Paul's father sitting by the fountain with the woman at his side, smiling blankly like a department store mannequin. Theresa. Paul's dead mother. "What happened to these people? What did Chad Goodwell do to them?"

Paul began with the hard truth. "He killed them. Five of them."

"Why?"

"Because God told him to."

Dean, squinting, said, "I think you skipped something."

"I just didn't know where else to begin." Letting out a sigh, Paul continued, "There are supposed to be nine God is Nowhere people total. Chad murdered five of them. He was in the process of trying to kill a sixth when I stumbled upon him. I stopped him and the man survived, but the police picked us both up until they could sort out what happened. During the ride to the station, Chad confessed everything to me; he was babbling like a lunatic. He said he had injured himself somehow and bled, and he saw the words the same as I had."

"God is Now Here," Dean interjected.

Paul nodded his affirmation. "Chad claimed that after that, Tommy started to visit him."

Dean, looking surprised and more than a little confused, asked, "His ghost?"

"No. The kid started visiting Chad _before_ he died. Tommy even dropped my name. Said he was going to meet me soon, and that I was the only other person who 'saw the words right.' Chad claimed that Tommy called the God is Nowhere people 'the Darkness' because they were all going to do something horrible to the world. And then God started talking to him. Telling Chad that all of the God is Nowhere people had to die. That it was his duty to kill them all."

After all the evil he had seen throughout his life, Dean thought he instantly recognized what had really happened to Chad Goodwell. "Some thing was manipulating the kid. Chad thought he was listening to Tommy and God, but he was really working for some evil little shit."

"Chad said that since the police had stopped him, it was now up to me to finish off the rest." Paul swallowed hard. "There was a time when I actually considered that he might be right."

"But... you don't believe it anymore. Do you?" Dean questioned.

"No. I can't believe that God works that way. Coercing some poor kid to fly all over the country murdering people?" He folded his hands together, shaking his head. "No, it wasn't God."

"Where is Chad now?"

"Dead. Grabbed a gun off a policeman and shot himself." Paul leaned his chin on his hands; his eyes were on the wall but were clearly not seeing it as he remembered that horrible night. "He asked me to tell his mom that he was sorry, and then he shot himself."

"You _saw_ it?" Dean rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing compared to what happened to those innocent people. Chad shot them, he choked them, he tried to beat Mr. Webster to death with an iron... all because they experienced hemography. The only thing that makes sense now is that the God is Nowhere people are... and were... supposed to do something to help the world. Otherwise, why would these evil beings go to such lengths to manipulate an impressionable kid into murdering them?"

The relief had begun to seep into Dean's being, slowly bringing him to realize that this wasn't going to turn out as bad as he had thought it could. Paul was freaked out, but he wasn't going to run away. This God is Nowhere thing didn't mean the bad things that Dean feared it would. He breathed a grateful sigh. "That's a good point. We should figure out what kind of spirits we're dealing with here. There are a few different kinds that can take on the form of a living person. Doppelganger, shape-shifter... maybe Tommy was possessed and really did visit Chad Goodwell in the flesh."

"I got the impression that no one else could see Tommy. That these visits were clandestine, and continued after Tommy died," Paul said.

"Oh. Hm. Then we just need to consider beings that can make themselves invisible to everyone but one person, and not a ghost. Something that can make itself look like anyone it wants. It would have to be something pretty adaptable, chameleon-like. It's actually too bad that Chad Goodwell is dead," Dean sighed. "It would be helpful to interrogate him."

"It wouldn't be helpful to have him running around trying to kill us," added Paul with a huff.

Dean looked at him. "Us?"

Paul almost cringed. "Uh... yeah."

"What do you mean, us?"

"Dean... my blood has spelled out both phrases. I'm also a God is Nowhere person," Paul confessed.

Glaring at him for a few moments, Dean asked, "When were you going to tell me this?"

"When I had the chance."

"Well." Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Guess that means there's only one left whose identity we need to discover."

"Yeah." Thinking it over, Paul also leaned forward, his elbow propped on one knee, hand under his chin. "Dean, can I ask you a really personal question?"

"Most likely." He looked over at Paul.

Paul let out a nervous sigh before launching into the story. "Keel and I trapped a demon once and questioned it. We had trapped it in a magick sign that forced it to tell the truth. The demon said that 'God is Nowhere' is a positive message because it refers to God being there for us when things are at their worst, when we are emotionally and spiritually nowhere."

"That's kinda corny."

Now it was Paul's turn to glare. "It's true, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Finish your point."

Raising an annoyed eyebrow, Paul went on. "Anyway, all of the God is Nowhere people share a common link - they have all felt this sense of being nowhere. They have, or will, all attempt suicide sometime in their lives." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, I have to know... have you ever attempted suicide? Because if you haven't, that means at some point, you _will_, and I just can't bear the thought - "

Dean's shoulder had stiffened under Paul's hand. He froze, staring at the floor. "Stop," he said, halting Paul's emotionally charged words. Dean didn't answer him for several agonizing moments as he tried to collect his thoughts. "Wow. This is not where I expected the conversation to go."

"Dean?" Paul's voice sounded desperate and weak.

"Paul... yes. Yes, I did try to kill myself."

**Unspoken** is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Unspoken**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 3 of 4  
**Rating:** Adult17+ for graphic sex between two men and bad language  
**Dates:** Written June-July 2008  
**Word Count:** 4,535 (this chapter), 19,273 total  
**Summary:** Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul that he is a God is Nowhere person. Buckets of hurt/comfort.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Paul Callan. Also, discussion of Teen!Dean/Billy Loomis from _Scream_.  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for _Miracles_.  
**Warning:** Contains spoilers for all of _Miracles_ and _Supernatural_ up to "The Benders." Spoilers for the movie _Scream_.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Harshini the Impatient Vegemite for poking me until I wrote this story. She also served as its beta.  
**Author's Notes:** Refers to an _SPN/Scream_ cross-over I will be writing in the future.

This chapter has been edited for inclusion on FF .net. If you'd like to read the hawt unedited version, remove the extra spaces from this URL and visit: dementedstuff .com/ miracles/ crossunspoken03 .htm

Sitting down next to Sam, Evie leaned slightly over his shoulder to read the paper in his hand. "You've reached Danielle Franklin's part of the file?"

Sam jerked a little in his chair like she'd startled him; he'd been so engrossed in the transcripts of Danielle's dreams, he didn't realize she was there. "Oh, yeah. Seems like."

"Sorry I scared you," she chuckled.

"It's okay. Hey, tell me something... do all of their dreams come true? The dreams the God is Nowhere people have of Paul?"

"They have so far."

After a long pause, Sam grunted, "Huh," and kept reading. He started to fidget in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk and his foot on the floor. Eventually, he put the paper down and said, "When he was a kid, Dean dreamed that Paul met his father."

Alva looked up from what he was reading. "Oh? You did say that your brother had had some dreams about Paul..."

"Yeah." Sam wet his lips; his mouth was suddenly dry with nervousness. "Our dad's letter said Dean was really worried about Paul meeting his father, because he could be a dangerous man."

"Paul's father is the dangerous one?" Evie asked, needing clarification.

"Yeah. In Dean's dream, Paul meets his father, only he doesn't know the man is his father."

Alva seemed a little alarmed. "Goodness." He and Evie looked at each other. "For all we know, this could have already happened."

Evie finished, "Or... maybe not."

They were all silent as this revelation sunk in. "I wish we had some clue what was going to happen," Evie added.

Sam's eyes nervously darted back and forth.

A minute later, he came to the passage detailing Danielle's dream about Paul's meeting with his father at the sidewalk café. Fountain. Anger. The water turns red. Looking troubled, Sam rubbed his hand over his mouth and put down the paper.

Although he didn't realize it, Evie had been watching Sam, noticing how his eyes widened and his expression became more and more disturbed. "Sam, what is it?"

He jumped in his seat again. "I think you're trying to give me a heart attack," he said, a little irritated.

She didn't acknowledge the comment. "Sam?"

Sighing, he mumbled, "Dean's going to kill me." Then he picked up the sheet of paper and pointed to the description of Danielle's sidewalk café dream. "Dean had this dream last night."

"What? Which dream?" Alva set aside his own reading again to see what Sam was talking about.

"Danielle's dream about the sidewalk café, when Paul meets his father."

Evie and Alva tried to tie each other for most times they had looked shocked that day. "Oh... Alva... this worries me..." she said.

"Whatever happens, we're all going to be there, so we'll get Paul through it," Sam added, trying to reassure them.

"We'll all be there?" Alva said disbelievingly.

"Uh... yeah." Sam smiled, sheepish; he felt he'd said too much already. Dean was going to kill him. "Maybe my brother should fill in the details. It wasn't my dream."

Another awkward silence. Alva and Evie looking at each other. Then Alva ignored what Sam had said to ask, "Why were we all there?"

_Because we were heading off to stop the Apocalypse, silly._ "I'm not sure. You'll have to ask Dean." _Oh, that's brilliant! Now he's really, REALLY going to kill you._

"Everyone was there? Even me?" Evie pressed.

_Even Paul's dead mother!_ "I think so," Sam assumed. Truth was, he couldn't remember if Dean had said Evie was there; if she was, she hadn't said anything. Dean had only repeated what Alva had said _(You unimaginable bastard)_ and that Sam himself had been standing behind Dean, "humming with power." Like this wasn't strange enough, there had to be _that_ description to haunt him every time he thought about it. Sam was sorry he'd brought it up. "Ask Dean when he comes in."

Not only did he now have to wonder _how_ he'd gotten to the point that he was humming like a generator, but what he was going to be able to do with all that power. At least Sam didn't have to wonder what was going to happen once his brother got there - that one was easy.

Dean was going to _kill_ him.

spn/miracles/spn/miracles/spn/miracles

Paul rubbed Dean's shoulder. The shameful, haunted feelings coming off of Dean broke his heart. "When?" he asked gently.

Dean, his eyes far off, drifting in the past, didn't speak for a long moment. Then he replied, "I was seventeen."

Paul continued, "Why did you do it?"

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he said, "I had... all these friends back then. It was the only time in my life when I can remember having so many friends at school that they could be called a gang. My gang. Not, you know, street violence kind of gang, but kids you hang out with and stuff."

"I understand."

Dean grinned a little and glanced at Paul before focusing his eyes back on nothing, seeing school buses and hidden packs of cigarettes and Friday night parties after the football games he didn't really give a shit about. He just went because his friends did. "My dad was working a long, long case involving a Chaos cult we'd followed across the country. He took me on hunts sometimes, but I wasn't that heavily involved yet. Not like I am now. I had a lot of time to hang out, when I wasn't looking after Sammy.

"There was this kid Billy... he was my closest friend back then. And we, uh... we became... romantically involved. He was my, my first... with a guy."

Considering that, Paul simply replied, "Ohhh." He started to try to fill in the blanks himself in his head. Things went bad? They broke up? Imagine Dean being a teenage boy, just finding out he's bi, and his first boy/boy relationship goes sour. No wonder... "Did you love him?"

Dean took another one of those long, contemplative pauses before he answered a quiet, "Yeah." What he added next, Paul hadn't expected. "I just couldn't save him. I tried, but I couldn't save him."

"Did he die?" Paul questioned.

"Yes. But by that time, he deserved it."

If Paul thought he was shocked before... "Dean, what are you _talking_ about?"

He shook his head. "Paul, he murdered a bunch of people. Billy stabbed them to death. For thrills. I knew he had an obsession with horror and violence, but I never thought he would take it that far... until he did. Some of those people he killed were my friends.

"I'd met a lot of demon hunters by then, and many of them were odd, obsessed with knives and guns and ways to kill things, so it didn't seem so weird when Billy was like that. Kids act weird and talk about death just to get attention... people say they're going to kill someone they're mad at and they rarely mean it. I didn't think he'd really do it.

"I should have told someone about Billy when Mrs. Prescott was murdered. I knew there was a chance he did it, really went and _did it_, but is that enough to make a big deal of? A hunch? They had a prime suspect and everything. Who was I supposed to tell anyway? My dad hated cops, he didn't trust them at all. And my _dad_... I was afraid to tell him, afraid he would know..." Dean started to shake his head. "If I talked to him about Billy, would he know about us, would he be able to tell? And what would he do?"

Sympathetically rubbing Dean's shoulders and upper back, Paul shook his head too. "Sounds like you were caught between a rock and a hard place. It wasn't your fault that he hurt anybody."

Dean looked at him. "But I might've been able to stop it, Paul. If I'd been there, if I hadn't run, I could've stopped it. It should have been me who put Billy down like a rabid dog. Not that poor girl. The deaths have followed her around for years since she shot Billy in the head, but it shouldn't have been her. It should've been me. That's what I do, Paul. I take down the monsters. I ran and I failed."

Paul's face was troubled as he pulled Dean close to him, hugging him to his body. After a few seconds, Dean hugged him back. "I'm sorry that you feel responsible. It wasn't your fault, Dean."

Dean gratefully drank in Paul's comfort in silence, something inside telling him he didn't deserve it. For Paul's sake, he tried not to listen. "That's why I tried to kill myself. I was responsible."

Letting out a groan, Paul moved back and took Dean's face in his hands. "Oh, God... I'm glad you didn't succeed. You don't deserve to die for what Billy did, Dean. You _don't_." He kissed Dean's mouth and cheeks.

"My dad has tried to tell me that a hundred times. Dad and Sammy. None of you will ever understand." Dean's eyes glimmered, but he wouldn't let himself cry.

Paul, holding the tears back as well, pulled Dean against him again.

They held each other, not speaking, for almost a full minute, just rocking softly and stroking each other's hair, until Dean broke the silence. "What about you?"

Paul's eyes had been closed; now they opened in surprise. "Me?"

"Your suicide attempt."

The two men separated to lean back and look at each other. Paul, having almost forgotten that he had his own story to confess, seemed caught off guard. His mouth hung open slightly as he gathered his thoughts. "Oh, yeah... my turn. Uh, how to make this the short story..."

"I'll take the long version if necessary," Dean assured.

"It's okay. You only need to hear the basics. I once took Evie's son Matty to the park to play, and - "

"Matthew?"

Paul shook his head. "Mateo."

"Cool name. I didn't know Copzilla was married."

"She's not, they're divorced."

"Oh." Dean tapped Paul's knee with the backs of his fingers. "Anyway, you took Matty to the park..."

"Yeah. And when I took my eyes off him for a couple of seconds, he disappeared."

"Shit," exclaimed Dean.

Nodding, Paul continued, "A woman grieving over the death of her own child had kidnapped him. But we didn't know that at the time. I'd been seeing Tommy's ghost off and on for two weeks straight, including at the same time that Matty was taken; it made me think that Tommy might know something. So I decided that I needed to talk to him.

"Keel and I got this doctor friend of his to help us. We lowered my body temperature with an ice bath and he injected me with a lethal combination of drugs that would stop my heart - "

Eyes wide, Dean interrupted him with, "Wait, wait, hold up. You killed yourself so you could talk to Tommy?"

"Yeah."

"Hello? Ever heard of a Ouija board?" His tone was sarcastic and disbelieving, not just because what Paul had done was extreme, but also because it horrified him that Paul had come close to death when there were other ways to speak to the dead. Dean might've never met him if things had turned out differently.

"We tried that. Tommy said he couldn't tell me what I needed to know unless I met him on the other side," explained Paul, and added ominously, "He wasn't alone in there."

"What about the psychomantium?"

"Wasn't built yet."

"Aren't you a medium?"

"The kid doesn't come when called."

"A necromancer?"

"They exist?"

Dean sighed. "Okay, whatever, you needed to die to talk to Tommy's ghost. What was your great plan for how you were going to be resurrected?"

"After four minutes, the doctor was supposed to restart my heart. The low body temperature and the length of time would keep me from coming out of it brain damaged."

"You were already brain damaged, even trying an insane plan like that."

Looking a little perturbed, Paul challenged, "If it had been your brother who was in danger, you'd be all for me trying it."

"If my brother had been in danger, I would have found another way to save him than risking your life."

"You make it sound so easy," Paul said, rolling his eyes.

Dean was obviously exasperated. "Either way, you did it, and no matter how crazy it was, it worked somehow, or you wouldn't be here."

"Exactly. Tommy gave me the clues we needed to figure out where Matty was, and he was recovered safe and sound."

"Okay. If you planned to come out of this alive, then how was it a suicide attempt?"

Lowering his head in shame, Paul said, "I didn't want to come out of it alive." He glanced at Dean for a moment, then looked away again. "Of course I wanted to bring good news back to Evie that would help her find her son, but deep down, a part of me just couldn't take it anymore. Everything in my life had fallen apart. This innocent child had given his life to save mine, and I felt guilty about it. Everyone kept telling me I was special, that I lived for a reason, but I couldn't find any reason." Remembering how he'd felt back then brought some of those feelings back for him; Paul leaned his elbows on his knees and put his forehead in his hands, hiding his face. "A part of me wished they wouldn't be able to revive me. I just wanted the pain to end."

Dean rubbed the back of Paul's neck. "I know how that feels. It's understandable, babe, after all you'd been through."

Paul's head snapped up. "It's not understandable, it was cowardly and selfish! If I had stayed dead, Evie might've never found Matty, and Keel and the doctor probably would have gone to prison for helping me kill myself. Not to mention the fact that my religion kind of frowns on suicide," he pointed out, his tone sarcastic as he mocked his own actions. "When I think back, sometimes I even wonder how I could have done something so ludicrous."

A hand on Paul's knee, Dean began to massage the back of his neck with the other as he tried to comfort him. "I understand why you're conflicted about what you did. But most people don't think about the real cost of their suicide while they're plotting it and carrying it out. We just think about making the pain end." He gave Paul's head a playful little shake. "You gotta stop beating yourself up over it.

"Keel doesn't seem to be mad at you for putting him in that position. Tommy willingly came back to help you. They've forgiven you for what happened. Maybe you should work on forgiving yourself."

Smirking, Paul put his forehead against Dean's and said, "Look who's talking."

For a second, an irritated expression crossed Dean's face, but it quickly gave way to a chuckle and a shake of his head. "Dude, shut up."

They sat with their heads together for a short time while Dean rubbed Paul's knee, his hand slowly moving higher and higher up his thigh. Lips close, tiny kisses shared, and soon they weren't thinking about their pain anymore.

The kisses turned passionate, long and lingering, breath becoming quick between each press of the lips. At some point, they had wrapped their arms around each other and Paul found Dean's hand on his fly. The fingers pressed down hard on his crotch and he moaned. Dean rubbed down the growing lump of Paul's erection. Then he undid the other man's pants, one-handed, and started pulling them down.

"See?" Dean said between kisses. "Told you. Another thing to undo."

Paul helped him push his pants down until he was sitting there in his underwear with his pants around his knees. "Guess that's all you wanted to talk about?"

Dean chuckled into another kiss.

Once Paul's pants had fallen to his ankles, Dean suddenly stopped and got up off the bed. "I'll be right back," he said.

Paul made a displeased face. "What, you didn't like the pants either?"

"Nah, I'm really trying to get you in the sack this time. It's just that the instructions say it's easier to put it on if you're semi-erect." He picked up his duffel bag.

"Put _what_ on?"

Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "You'll see."

He ducked into the closet, closing the folding doors behind him. A few seconds later, Dean opened one door a little and tossed out his jeans; Paul caught them. A few more seconds and the underwear followed.

"Hm. What are you doing in there?" Paul asked.

"Feel me and see," replied Dean.

Paul dipped into his emotional center, not surprised to find him turned on. It seemed he was getting more aroused by the second; was he touching himself? "Would you come out already?"

"Coming." Dean tossed out the duffel bag just to get it out of the way, then pushed both doors open and leaned invitingly against the doorjamb. He struck a pose worthy of a _Playgirl_ model, one arm behind his head and back arched, lips puckered, totally overdoing it. Paul's eyes didn't spend much time examining Dean's face, though...

Grinning eagerly, he moved back on the bed so Dean could climb on. Dean suddenly grabbed Paul's ankles and yanked him toward him so fast that Paul fell on his back, his head almost hanging off the end of the bed. Paul yelped in surprise.

"Did you enjoy that?" Paul asked, lifting his head.

"Fuck yeah."...

**Unspoken** is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.  



	4. Chapter 4

**Unspoken**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 4 of 4  
**Rating:** Adult17+ for graphic sex between two men and bad language  
**Dates:** Written June-July 2008  
**Word Count:** 4,880 (this chapter), 19,273 total  
**Summary:** Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul that he is a God is Nowhere person. Buckets of hurt/comfort.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Paul Callan. Also, discussion of Teen!Dean/Billy Loomis from _Scream_.  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for _Miracles_.  
**Warning:** Contains spoilers for all of _Miracles_ and _Supernatural_ up to "The Benders." Spoilers for the movie _Scream_.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Harshini the Impatient Vegemite for poking me until I wrote this story. She also served as its beta.  
**Author's Notes:** Follows after "Orange-Flavored Kiss."

This chapter has been edited for inclusion on FF .net. If you'd like to read the hawt unedited version, remove the extra spaces from this URL and visit: dementedstuff .com/ miracles/ crossunspoken04 .htm

They held each other a moment longer. Somewhere, Dean's cell phone began to ring. He wasn't even sure where his jacket was at this point, but the phone was in the pocket of it. Both men groaned softly; Dean rolled over on his back. "That's probably Sammy. He'll have to leave a voice mail and I'll call him back. My legs are like Jell-O right now."...

..."There was a guy in college who kept pursuing me. He was very flattering and just wouldn't give up. I knew that I wanted to become a priest at that time, and that eventually I'd be taking a vow of celibacy." Paul's tone grew sheepish out of embarrassment. "The guy offered to fulfill a fantasy for me if it meant he could get me in bed. I was curious... and I was going to be a priest... it could be my only chance at one night of wild sexual abandon. That's the way you think in college," he laughed.

"How'd it go down?" Dean asked.

"We were both at the same party one night and I had a lot to drink... I can't hold hard liquor well."

"I'll remember that," Dean said, grinning.

Paul shot a scolding look at him before going on. "He approached me and made yet another pass at me... and I gave in. It was the first time a guy ever..."

"Woo-ooh." Dean loved the color that came into Paul's cheeks. "Look how embarrassed you are. It's cute."

"Yeah, well... I got a bit of a surprise. He was into bondage."

Laughing, Dean slapped Paul on the hip. "You are just full of surprises. I bet you liked it."

Paul shrugged. "Some of it. I don't get a few of the toys he brought out..."

Dean laughed even harder. "I had no idea you were this kinky."

"Oh, shut up."

Suddenly, Dean stopped laughing and furrowed his brow... "He _claimed_ you."

"I guess. But it was, like, thirteen years ago." Paul sat up.

Dean sat up too. "What's this guy's name?"

Surprised, Paul just stared at him. "Why do you want to know _that?_"

Dean, leaning over the bed, took Paul's face in his hands and kissed him so hard that Paul felt like his entire body was melting. "You're mine," he declared.

Emotions swirled through Paul so fast that he didn't know what to say. He cleared his throat and tried to speak. "Uh, we should take showers and get to SQ. _Separate_ showers, or we'll never get out of here."

No matter. Dean would get the name out of him in time. "Sure."

Paul got up and, halfway to the bathroom, was stopped again by Dean. "Were you and Georgia talking about me before I got here?"

Looking back at him, Paul nodded.

"Thought so." He paused. "If you wanna have a threesome with her or something, I'd be all for it."

Paul gaped in shock. "Dean, she's like a _sister_ to me."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, okay. I just wanted to make the offer in case you two were, you know, friends with benefits."

After a moment to shake it off, Paul chuckled and shook his head. "You're insatiable."

Dean watched him disappear into the bathroom. He finally got up, fished his cell phone out of the pile of clothes, and called his brother.

"Hey Sammy. ...Yeah, it went okay. Paul and I will be there in half an hour. ...God, I'm starved. Whadda ya want for lunch?"

spn/miracles/spn/miracles/spn/miracles

"Did your conversation go okay?" Sam was asking into his cell phone.

Although Sam was sitting right on the other side of the desk from him, Alva pretended he wasn't there as to not eavesdrop on his conversation. He just continued picking through the Hemography file, looking for interesting possible parallels he could ask Dean about during the interview. Alva, so excited and focused on the task, hadn't considered for a second that Dean might refuse.

"Jeez, what are you guys doing that's taking so long?" Sam questioned, playing innocent. Despite what Georgia had said, Sam wasn't completely over his bitterness for not being told something so profound about his brother. Although he would try to take her words to heart, one talk wasn't going to whitewash over this; it would take time.

Obviously Dean considered this a rhetorical question, just little brother bitching about them taking too long, because he didn't answer it. Instead, he asked Sam what he wanted for lunch. Pouting slightly, Sam said, "I don't know," and looked at Alva. "What do you feel like for lunch, Mr. Keel?"

"Oh, I suppose Chinese would be good."

Sam said into the phone. "Chinese. Get me some of that kung pao stuff. And quit dawdling around, whatever you're doing."

After he'd hung up, Sam resumed trying to piece back together the shards of ceramic on the desk before him.

"Evie should get back with Matty just in time for..." Alva had looked up. "What are you doing there, Samuel?"

He looked up too. "Got any glue?"

spn/miracles/spn/miracles/spn/miracles

When Paul dressed again, he did not put on the sweater vest.

Dean brought up something they hadn't yet discussed on the way to SQ. "You know, we got something kinda serious we need to talk about. Paul... not that I don't enjoy the sensation, but I'm not sure it's such a good idea for us not to be using condoms." He paused long enough to look at Paul, who glanced back, then gazed out at the road. He seemed embarrassed. "I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with... I mean, I get checked out every few months and I'm sure you're a clean guy, but... I mean, as much as I fuck around..."

Paul looked at him sharply. A stab of jealousy came through the empathic link to Dean, and he sighed. Then Paul seemed to relax somewhat, as if realizing that Dean did indeed have a life before he met him. "You're probably right. I just... I needed... I _wanted_ to feel your skin on mine while we made love. To feel your climax."

Something about that desire touched him, making Dean smile to himself. "I get that." They shared a long look, staring into each other's eyes while the car was stopped at a red light. "I could make a visit to the doctor, get checked out."

A pause, and Paul shrugged. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to be so reckless. You're right, it isn't sensible."

Another long pause as Dean slipped his arm across the seat and began to massage the back of Paul's neck. "This thing we got is complicated," he joked. "Maybe we should just go back to fucking."

Although he laughed, Paul gazed at Dean for a long time with a wistful look in his eye.

Dean, seeing it, gave his neck a squeeze. He added, "I like when you ask me to make love to you. It's... it's what you deserve."

This seemed to make Paul happy, and he put his hand over Dean's just to touch him.

spn/miracles/spn/miracles/spn/miracles

"Soup's on!" Dean cried as he and Paul walked into the SQ office, carrying the take-out containers of Chinese food.

Sam looked at them nervously. "Hi you two. Wow, that smells good."

They placed the food on the conference table. "Whatcha been doing, Sammy?" Dean noticed the ceramic mug drying on the desk. "Arts and crafts?"

"Huh? Oh, never mind that, I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?" Dean, hungry, started to lay out the paper plates.

Looking at Paul, Sam remembered the conversation he'd had with Georgia, about trying not to hurt him. It was for a completely different reason, but Sam knew this could cause Paul pain if the subject wasn't breached properly. "Outside," he added.

Dean looked at his brother. They seemed to speak to each other through their identically colored eyes. "Okay. Be right back." The two men stepped outside onto the metal staircase behind SQ.

Paul watched them go, then looked at Alva. "What's that about?"

Shrugging, Alva replied, "Mr. Winchester should probably tell you."

Dean walked a few steps down the stairs. "What's up, Sammy?"

Sam peered back into the doorway to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Mr. Keel has a whole file about the 'God is Nowhere' thing."

"Yeah, we knew that already."

Sam continued, "In it, there are details about various dreams that the others had. A woman named Danielle Franklin had the same dream you had last night."

Freezing, eyes going wide, Dean stared at his brother. "Shit."

"I told Mr. Keel and Evie."

Dean looked like he wanted his brother to choke on his kung pao chicken. "How much did you tell them?"

"I was sitting there reading this file and there was your dream, most of the details exactly the same. I had to say something, Dean. I told them how, in your dream, we came upon Paul's father sitting at a sidewalk café with a fountain nearby, and how Paul got mad and the water turned red. I didn't tell them about the Apocalypse or Paul's mother being there."

"At least there's that."

Sam added, "I told them you would fill in the details."

Angry but joking, Dean drew back a hand like he was going to hit him. "Sammy, I could..."

"I didn't say what details! You can choose to tell them whatever you want."

"Gee, thanks." Running a hand through his hair, Dean sighed. "The position you've put me in..."

He decided to get it out of the way first thing, especially since Keel was standing right there, looking at him like he expected to hear something from him. "Paul? There's something I've got to tell you."

When Dean explained that he'd had the sidewalk café dream, Paul gasped. Dean felt the bolt of fear go through Paul's insides. He told him about the dream, except the facts he intended to keep from him for now.

Sam spoke directly to Paul. "We'll all be there with you, Paul. Dean, Mr. Keel, and I. Evie too, probably."

Paul had taken a seat, looking pale and shocked. Now he raised his head with a little hope in his eyes. "You'll all be there with me?"

"Yeah."

"That detail wasn't in Danielle's dream."

Dean reached out and touched his arm. "It was in mine."

Paul went to touch him back, but pulled his hand back suddenly when it occurred to him where they were. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Trying to smile, Dean shrugged. "We had so many things to discuss, there wasn't time yet."

Paul swallowed hard, and then asked an unexpected, emotional question. "What does my father look like?"

The feelings coming off of his lover when he asked that question made it very hard for Dean not to grab him up in a tight, comforting embrace and kiss his face all over. "I don't know, ba - uh... Paul. There was this force in the dream that directed what my eyes could see. His face was blurred out. I know he had dark hair, though."

Paul let out a deep sigh, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to find out everything he wanted to know just yet. "Is there anything else?"

Relieved, Dean grinned. Sam wasn't going to wind up with a craw full of kung pao chicken and his fist. This had gone a little easier than he thought it would. "That's about it. Let's eat." He sat down next to Paul, considering himself lucky to be a good liar.

Alva stood on the other side of the table. "May I interview you about your 'God is Nowhere' experiences, Mr. Winchester?"

Sam expected his brother to tell Mr. Keel to go to hell, but there was a softness to the expression in Dean's eyes. When he said, "Yeah, sure. But sometime _after_ lunch," in response, Sam wondered if Dean saw this as a chance to tell Mr. Keel about the more explosive details of the dream. He might know something, after all, as the things he said in the dream seemed to indicate.

They were about to dish out the food when Alva added, "I'd also like to interview your father."

His fork in the first egg roll, Dean froze and looked up at his brother, who was still standing. They shared a look, and Dean burst out in hearty laughter. Between guffaws, he looked right at Alva and said, "Good luck," then laughed all over again.

Evie came in with Matty in tow just as Dean's laughter was dying down. "Look out everybody, a hyena just escaped from the zoo," she said, and gave Dean a sarcastic smile.

Dean grinned back at her. "Hooray, my best friend is here. And she's got the famous Mateo with her. Paul told me your name."

The child giggled shyly.

"Why would you ever call this kid Matty when he's got a great name like Mateo you could call him instead?"

Evie gave him that fake smile again. "Because he's seven."

Leaning on the table, Sam nudged his brother, saying, "This is why I keep trying to get you to stop calling me Sammy."

Noticing the mug on the desk, Evie picked it up. "Oh, you glued my Mother's Day mug back together. Thank you, Alva."

"I didn't do it." He nodded his head at Sam.

Sam looked sheepish. "I felt bad for surprising you and making you break it."

"Aw, thanks Sam. That was very sweet." She pointed out an empty seat for Matty, then went to the mini-fridge to get a juice for him and a bottle of water for herself. "It means a lot to me."

"That's the mug I got for you, Mommy," Matty said proudly.

"Yes it is." She opened up the water. "Let's just try it out right now."

Pressing the issue, Alva asked, "Is your father hard to reach?"

Dean just started to chuckle again. "You've got a funny boss, Paul. A regular comedian."

"Am I to take that to mean - "

Matty began to giggle without reserve.

They all looked up and saw Evie standing with her mug held out, water pouring out of it from several cracks in the sides. Sam seemed embarrassed; she seemed amused.

"I'm sorry," he said with a cringe. "I didn't see all those gaps."

"It's alright. I can always use it to water the plants."

So far, Paul had been successful at staying in his troubled funk over knowing yet another person had dreamed of him meeting his father under bad circumstances. Once he saw Evie and her watering can mug, he collapsed into snickers and finally enthusiastic laughter.

Dean laughed with him, slapping his knee under the table. Even Alva got a good chuckle out of it.

Sam didn't know when his brother planned to tell him the truth about his relationship with Paul, but one thing he did know - Dean had fallen hard for this man. He could tell from the light dancing in his brother's eyes when he merely looked at Paul Callan.

That was one thing that could remain unspoken.

**Unspoken** is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.  



End file.
